The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle)
Page 12
“Well, then, and where did ye get that?”
“Iain.” She reached under her skirts to where she had secured it to her leg with a leather strap. She held it in her hand, remembering his words. Trust no one. She breathed deeply before letting it go, extending the little knife toward Seumas at the same time.
Their eyes met over the blade. She saw something akin to appreciation in his gaze. For her dagger?
“Good for ye, lass. And have ye ever used it before?”
“In the woods.” She glanced toward the forest, assuring herself that Calum had not yet returned. “To skin some rabbits so we could eat. We would have starved, no doubt, if Calum had realized what we were eating.”
His eyes creased with his wide smile. “Very good. To defend yerself,” he adjusted the dagger so the handle sat in the palm of his hand, the blade facing out, “ye want to push up into the flesh. Sink it in deep. All the way to the hilt. So there is no mistaking yer intent.”
He placed it in her hand, supporting her small hand with his own. He encircled her body. His heart beat against her side.
“See how it feels to grasp the knife? Be firm now. Ye do not want to let it loose. That is it.” She held her fingers tightly around the handle of the dagger. “Now ye have it. How does it feel?”
The shining blade protruded from her hand as if it were an extension of her own body. It felt…good.
Calum chose that moment to come toward them, his tunic pulled loose and cupping a tremendous amount of blackberries. He beamed with pride as he dumped them onto the blanket then plopped down. She smiled her thanks and turned her attention back to Seumas.
“Fine, then. Ye are doing fine. But remember…yer best defense is surprise. Ye cannot let them know ye have it. So ye get a chance to—” He closed his fingers around hers and jabbed the object as if stabbing someone. “Push it in, and up. See?”
Her confusion must have shown on her face. He was stabbing at no one. He turned to face her. He held the blade pointed at himself, just under the ribcage.
“Here. That is where ye need to push the blade in. In and up. It will go right for the heart. Ye see?”
He pulled her wrist in toward him with the motion. The thought of actually pushing the dagger into a person suddenly became real for her. She glanced up at him. He smiled and nodded his encouragement. He pulled her wrist in again.
“In and up. Understand?” She nodded, but her uncertainty must have shown. “Ye will be able to do it if it means yer life, Iseabail.”
She believed him, but standing this close to him, with the dagger being pushed toward his heart, she was not sure. She shook her head and shrugged.
“Imagine it is Uncle Henry.” Calum’s voice startled her to reality. He sat on the blanket, his rabbit on his lap and his mouth full of berries. “You could do it then.”
Seumas turned back to her. “Is that who ye could kill? Yer uncle?”
The dagger dropped on the blanket between them. She bit her lip and sat next to Calum.
“I do not know that I could kill him, Calum.” Her voice was quiet. She shoved in a handful of berries to avoid saying more.
“That is enough for now.” Seumas’s voice was tight, but he sat beside her. “Ye did fine, lass.”
Thoughts of killing her uncle flashed through her mind. She should have poisoned him after that first time. She had thought about it. How easy it would have been to rub a few of those lovely white bell flowers along the mouth of his drinking cup. She might have needed to do it a few times, but he would have been taken care of and unable to touch her again.
“Where did ye go?” Seumas stroked her cheek. “Ye looked to be a hundred miles away.”
She blinked at him. He was not her uncle. She was safe.
“Tell me about this uncle.” Seumas’s voice reminded her of the chapel priest, coaxing for a confession of her sins.
Her uncle told her enough what a sinful girl she was. His leering smile flashed in her mind, his head back in ecstasy. Faster, now, little Iseabail. No, she would not be telling him that.
“He is spreading the lie that we murdered a guard, and that we were trying to kill him.” Calum spoke up loud and clear, saving her from having to answer. His head was held high. He was not sorry for having told their secret.
“What?” His shoulders straightened, his eyes widened. “How can that be? People cannot believe it of ye.”
“That is why the price for our capture is so high. He has thought of everything,” Iseabail answered. She lowered her head, defeated. “I wish this terrible ordeal had never started. We had to get away from my uncle and his ambitions. His greed and desire for power know no limits.”
“Are you sorry to be helping us?” Calum asked the question, but it was Iseabail who held her breath, waiting for his reply.
Seumas walked to the river’s edge. He squatted beside the cool water and seemed to look out across its depths, thinking of the right answer for them. After what felt like an eternity, he came back to the blanket. His gait was stiff. He was irritated.
“Ye should have told me right away that ye were wanted for murder. The fact that ye did not shows me ye do not trust me.” He looked between the two of them. “I do not offer my help lightly. I will abide by our agreement. I will get ye to my friend safely, but if anyone along the way recognizes ye…” He shook his head with disgust at his own thought. “At least now I have a chance of protecting ye.”
He stood and turned away from them. His hands on his hips, he spoke to no one in particular. His voice was hard. “We need to head out now.”
Yes, her uncle was very clever in putting her name out there as a murderess and with a price, no less. Many would go to great lengths to return her to her uncle in the hopes of becoming rich. That they had shown such little faith in the one person who might have protected them ate away at her. She went to stand behind him.
“I am sorry.” She reached toward him until he started shaking his head, still facing the river. She dropped her hand. “Come on, Calum. Let us get these things together.”
*****
Seumas led them back across the brook and into the denser woods that led to Fairhaven. Calum kept up with him, and they made good time. At least he knew the whole story. Patrick coming after them made a lot more sense now, but if they had decided to hold back that little bit of information, what else were they not telling him? That was the problem with half-truths—they led to a lack of trust.
When they finally came to a clearing, Seumas gauged the distance they had yet to travel. “We may be supping in Mark’s Great Hall come the morrow.”
Calum smiled up at Seumas.
He could not stay mad at the lad. “Would ye like to be in a warm castle again, Calum?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically.
Seumas tousled the lad’s hair and turned to Iseabail, ignoring her hesitant smile. “How about ye, m’lady? Does a night in a real bed sound like something ye could handle?”
“Oh, yea, m’lord, I believe I could handle that in a fine way.” She looked relieved, her smile bloomed. “Would you also be appreciating a soft place to lay your head?”
Seumas’s heart skipped a beat. Damn. She could jerk his emotions with a smile. Surely he had mistaken her meaning. She did not seem to notice and slid off the horse. He had a moment to compose himself before she ducked under the horse’s head and stood in front of him. At the expectant look on her face, Seumas bristled with annoyance. He went to work unsaddling the horse.
“It will be good to sleep within four walls again.” He tried to soften the sharpness in his voice. Calum and Iseabail exchange a glance. Seumas rubbed the horse down with the blanket. “Relieve yourselves and return for a rest and some food.”
He snorted as they walked away. Iseabail had only a slight limp. She was on the mend. He headed in the opposite direction to relieve himself but continued to stay away to settle his own thoughts. She had just been teasing. Why did she cause such strong reactions in him? He wanted to
take her over his knee one minute then plow into her the next. Damn woman.
When she had pulled up her skirt to get her dagger, the wind was nearly knocked out of him. Like nothing, she lifted those skirts, revealing her slender calf and that God-awful strap squeezing her thigh. He wanted to slide his hand from ankle to thigh, caressing her softness, soothing the dagger’s imprint. The thought of tracing his tongue along that same path and ending at the juncture of her legs had him nearly panting. To even think that way about a woman again was a curse. Damn her.
After the two were situated on the horse, Seumas continued on the road to Fairhaven. By dusk, they had made good time and he tried to force himself to relax as they ate what little they had foraged. He was restless and glad when the two of them finally drifted to sleep. Looking up at the stars, he rubbed his hands together, his breath visible with the dropping temperature. He walked away from Calum and Iseabail.
He was exhausted but could not even think about sleep. After all he had walked today, the idea of taking another trek should have been daunting, yet he found himself following the little path that led to a pond. Perhaps a cool dip might help him settle.
The water soothed, and he began to relax. Steam rose from his body and the surface of the pond. Floating on his back, he allowed his body to drift where it would. He looked up at the boundless sky and followed the milky path that seemed to twist like a pass between the bright lights. The stars were beyond beautiful, and he marveled at their light.
“And He knows them all by name.” Seumas quoted scripture to no one and wondered again at his physical ailment. Had he just imagined his recovery? Or was he still on the mend? Perhaps the mind took longer to be made whole than the body.
Just before sunrise, Seumas was fully rested and preparing the horse for the last part of the journey when Iseabail and Calum awoke. Calum quickly pulled the few items from their camp together to help with the preparation. Iseabail used the fresh water he had collected to make an impromptu soup with what was left of their supplies. With such beautiful weather, they would make good time.
“Does your friend have legal knowledge of his own?” Iseabail called to Seumas, who led the horse.
“His father knew more than most. More importantly,” he turned to her, “Mark knows what he himself does not and keeps counsel for that reason.”
“But his father is no longer among the living?”
“No.”
The night Mark and Seumas had spent huddled together, discussing their fathers’ expectations for them, and how little the old men knew about life, slammed into his brain.
“And you met in the Holy Land?”
Her damn questions. Could she not just leave it alone?
“We were friends for many years.” He fought the rising tension at her questions. She was right to ask about where they were going and who they would be with. For her own protection, she should have been asking questions. He exhaled before answering, wanting to sound confident. “I trust him with my life.”
She nibbled her lip thoughtfully before she spoke again. “Then he must be a good man, too.”
It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. If only she did believe Seumas was a good man, but her actions told another story. She would have shared her story if she had felt safe with him. She told only what she felt she had to and when she had to. That was not trust in someone but a reaction to being trapped. He was the lesser of two evils.
“He is worthy of yer trust.” The reality was that she did not trust him. That was clear. Perhaps with Mark, she could feel safe.
Chapter 17
At the next crest, the castle came into view in the distance, glistening as if made of gold.
Iseabail shielded her eyes. “Have you been here before?”
“No, I have not, but I know this is the place. Mark told us how his castle had been built with the stones along the cliff and how it sparkled in the light.” Seumas scratched his cheek. “I have to say I did not believe him.”
“You can believe him!” Calum stated the obvious with his dramatic flair.
Before they had crossed halfway to the castle, a group of armed soldiers approached them. Seumas stopped the horse and helped Iseabail dismount. Stepping ahead of both of them, he approached the men without hesitation.
“Good day.” Seumas raised his hand in acknowledgment. “I am a friend of yer laird Mark and have come for a visit.”
The men stopped but did not dismount. Seumas shifted so that he did not have to look up at them on their horses. It seemed odd to him that they would be so ungracious, but perhaps it was for the castle’s protection.
“What is your name?” The apparent leader of the group, a black-haired man whose long hair blended with the rest of his attire, peered down his long patrician nose with obvious irritation.
He scanned the area twice and huffed, perhaps eager to be done with this task. He assessed both Calum and Iseabail, but it was Iseabail who caught and held his attention. A smile broke across his face.
Shading her eyes, Iseabail looked up at the man on the lead horse. His eyes seemed to be studying her with great intensity. She tilted her head in acknowledgement, and his smile broadened.
“I am Seumas of Mallaig.” He scowled. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he had a strong sense of foreboding.
“From the MacDonell clan?” someone asked from the back of the group, but Seumas could not tell who had spoken. The well-armed men were tense, their hands resting on their swords even though he stood there with a woman and a small boy. How much of a threat could he be?
“I am. Do ye know of me?” Seumas answered, scanning their faces for someone he recognized.
The leader held out his arm interrupting any possible answer. “You will have to wait here until our return.”
The men started to turn their horses back to the castle.
“Please,” Seumas said, stopping their retreat, “we have traveled a long distance and wish to come in and rest. Surely, Lord Mark would not expect visitors to be left standing at the gate.”
“That may be, but Lord Mark is not in residence at this time.”
“He is not here?” Seumas asked. “When will he return?”
“I am not able to say, Seumas.”
The man used his name with a familiarity Seumas did not care for. His irritation grew by the minute. He had not expected this type of greeting. In Mark’s absence, where would help for Iseabail be found?
The black-haired man crossed his arms on the saddle as he leaned toward Seumas. “Well, do you wait or go on your way?”
Seumas had the distinct impression he had just been challenged. He sized the man up. Same height, perhaps a bit scrawnier than himself. His features appeared French, but Seumas detected no accent. The cocky smirk on his face made Seumas want to find a reason to knock him off his horse.
Iseabail stepped up beside Seumas. “We are very much looking forward to seeing your laird. We will be happy to wait here.” She placed her hand on Seumas’s arm, which stiffened in response. “Thank you for your assistance.”
The man’s gaze took in all of Iseabail, and he smiled again. Nodding, he led the men back to the castle.
Iseabail smiled then turned to face Seumas, who fumed.
“Why are ye smiling?” he asked.
“Surely we can wait a little longer?” she asked. “Do you not have any manners?”
Seumas snorted in answer. “This is not what I had expected. Mark is a kind man, and I would not have pushed the two of ye so hard if I had known ye would be left out here with the sun beating down on us.”
He turned away and began to re-cinch the horse’s saddle. Iseabail and Calum watched Seumas work out his irritation as he cared for the horse. Finally, Calum pulled up a yellow flower and held it under his sister’s chin. Glancing toward Seumas from the corner of his eye, he said, “You like butter.”
“’Tis true.”
“And are you going to expire if we stand out here?”
Calum shook his head emphatically.
Seumas raised his arm for them to stop. “Enough, enough. I apologize for trying to see to yer comfort.”
“You appeared ready to do battle!” Iseabail stated. “We can wait. We will be fine.”
“It is not the treatment I expected,” Seumas muttered under his breath.
Calum and Iseabail exchanged glances.
She was right. He did not like the way that man had looked at Iseabail. It made him uncomfortable to realize how quickly he had become agitated. Perhaps fatigue was taking a toll. A rest was all he needed, and that would come soon enough.
Still, leaving guests to wait outside the castle walls was not a common occurrence. Surely they had an adequate number of men within to keep an eye on any guests with questionable intent? One of the soldiers had even recognized him.
“Seumas.” Her voice was quiet. “Do we have any other option?”
Seeing both their expectant faces looking at him, he felt chagrined. He had put such high hopes in Mark and his knowledge of the code of law. His stomach tightened into a knot of uncertainty. He kept his head turned toward the horse. Another bad decision? A groan of self-loathing escaped him, but he covered it with a cough. Their faces were full of concern.
Calum reached for the water skin and handed it to Seumas. “We do not blame you, m’lord.” Calum spoke slowly, seeming to choose his words with care. “This is not your doing.”
Seumas drank the water down with his bitterness. Calum’s words reassured him, but Seumas disagreed. There should have been something more he could have done. He did not know what, though.
Iseabail took the blanket from the bag and spread it out a few feet from the horse then settled herself demurely on it. Her hands folded in her lap and her nose in the air, she faced the castle. The little brown rabbit hopped through the grass and plopped down beside her. Calum joined her on the blanket, lying on his stomach. He took a piece of grass between his thumbs and blew. He changed the shape of his lips with mixed results.